Wake Me Up
by Write1Read2
Summary: When HYDRA holds the power of Nightmares, Steve knows it's over for him. He doesn't want to kill Tony, but he can't make it stop. He doesn't know how much more he can take.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to my whumpy torture fic. It's Tony/Steve, just making that clear because for some reason you can't tag anything. A few minor appearances of other MCU characters will be here too. I hope you like it.**

* * *

Pain shot though his leg up to his chest where his lungs worked hard to stifle a cry. It was like a burning iron was pressed to his leg, his mind drowning in the torment, no coherent thought was able to reach the surface as his mind was clouded in fog and pain. Scratch that first part.

It _was _a burning iron pressed to his leg.

He wanted to curl into something fetal, something primeval, but the straps around his arms and legs that held him to the iron chair were persistent. Machines were all around him, next to him and behind him. He did not know what for. He knew nothing. And all he could do was bite back screams and just wait until the fire stopped burning and the pain would recede.

It was no sharp pain, like the needle they used to draw blood from him, or the knife they used to slice delicately through his skin. The pain burned like a wildfire, grasping at everything it could find and soaking his internal organs in pain like boiling water. Everything felt scorched, like all that was left were dark ashes on a smoldering pile.

He wished for a bullet to put him out of his misery, for a knife to twist its way into his heart and stop its beating for eternity. Moving or not, there was no escaping this pain he was put into hour after hour. In all the past experiences he's ever had, he had been thrown through walls, used as a punching bag, shot at multiple places of his body, stabbed, choked, nearly drowned, and even the whole super serum process had not been a party either (quite the opposite. Until this day, he had always considered that the most painful event he'd ever participated).

But this… this was a twenty-four-hour torture and they still managed to come up with new things. Steve had thought he knew a lot of torture methods, turned out he didn't even come close to what people were capable of. The only true release from pain he ever got, were the moments he passed out. Oblivion and darkness would take over, and for a short, but _sweet_, unknown amount of time he was _free. _In the sweet state of oblivion there was no pain, there was no torture, just a comforting darkness.

Though every time it happened (which was not nearly as much times as Steve wanted) they always found ways to make him wake up. They let him inhale that grossly scented salt or they threw a bucket of water in his face. Neither was pleasant, he just wanted to keep sleeping until someone would show up to rescue him.

In between the tortures, where he had a few minutes window to catch his breath while his tortures went to get new stuff, the nausea dutifully took over what the pain didn't cover.

It was truly horrifying to see and feel what humans were capable of. What they were able to do to other humans. He knew HYDRA was cruel, but now he lived through it firsthand. Then the pain would start again, and all rational thoughts were stuffed into a corner of his mind, to be forgotten until the few minutes window.

"Captain Rogers? Wake up."

He felt someone grab his chin and raise his head up from its hanging position, where his chin had been touching his chest. He was forced to look into those cold, grey eyes, set in a pale face with a frame of blond hair. A smile crept over red-painted lips, and he felt a puff of air in his face. Mint. She must have brushed her teeth or took a mint or something. He knew he shouldn't be paying attention to that, but his mind tried to occupy itself with everything that was not the pain.

Instead of focusing on her voice or face, he directed his attention to his trembling leg. It was hurting unlike anything had ever hurt before, but at the same time he felt nothing but an empty static. Numbness and an odd tingling, yet it made cries form in his throat and tears burn in his eyes. None fell, though. He did not allow himself to cry in front of those scumbags.

A hash slap echoed around the room. His face whipped to the side and his cheek throbbed. The throbbing feeling quickly receded into a mild tingling; slaps with the flat, bare hand did not do much to him. But it did snap him out of his thoughts and he regarded the brainless doll-face in front of him.

"Captain Rogers? Do I have your attention?" she asked, blood red lips moving.

He nodded slowly.

She smiled at that, "Good. It has been exactly sixty hours, like we said this session would take. Are you willing to give us the information in exchange for a quick, painless release?"

It was not hard to guess she meant 'release' as in 'death'. Steve almost chuckled at it. Funny. She thought he was going to choose death over death. He could always choose death, but death was a better choice, wasn't it? It would end the exact same for him, only one of those deaths was long and agonizing, and the other was quick and painless. Yet the quick and painless one, was the coward's way out. And Steve was no coward.

He tasted a coppery flavor in his mouth, blood was staining his teeth. Every so often in a while he felt it slip and drip down, the warm red liquid pouring from whatever wound they had made, as from his lips and his nose to his mouth. They had been burning him for a few hours now, just taking their time, no rushing. First had been the knives and the beating, then the waterboarding. He didn't know which had been worse, knives or water, until they had started pushing white-hot objects to his skin.

Where it hurt the most was unknown to him, all the plain had blended into one large mix of various kinds of pain, all burning, throbbing, stabbing, pulsing and squeezing. He barely knew which pain came from where, his brain couldn't distinguish a stab wound from a burn anymore. It was all just _pain_.

Doll-face was talking, with her perfect, red painted lips moving, her big, fake eyelashes fluttering and that blonde hair curling around her shoulders. Though she was an evil bitch, she was stunningly beautiful. Her makeup was done flawlessly, and she looked good. But to him, that was only more confusing. He saw beauty, but he felt only pain. His brain had a tough time putting those things in the same sentence, let alone in the same face.

His breathing was accelerating without him even fully noticing. His heart was beating painfully, hammering away in his chest, and his eyes glossed over, a large blur spreading in his vision.

Her red lips were still moving. It was like one of those edited pictures he had ever seen. It was a grey picture of a street, but in the middle of the street lay a red umbrella, popping out beautifully. That was what this made him think of. Blood red lips against a pale face. Only he did not enjoy this. The words flew over his head, not reaching the part of his mind where they actually meant something.

Again, there was a harsh slap in his face, on his other cheek this time, sending his head to the other side than before. He blinked slowly, barely able to focus his attention on anything. His mind was floating through an endless space of static, a thick fog clouding his head.

"Rogers!"

The woman caught his jaw again, fingernails digging into his flesh. Steve cowered slightly, her eyes spat out fire and flames.

"Did … hear?"

He stared into her misty grey eyes.

"… completely … shock," another voice next to him said. It was the man who had been pressing that burning iron against his leg a few minutes ago.

"… use … shake … awake?"

A moment later, the stench of stale sweat hit him in the face, he scrunched up his nose. He was freed from the straps, but his hands were cuffed on his back right away instead. The man yanked him up by his hair, calling out a wince and a groan, pulling him along a few steps before forcing him on his knees.

"This'll help you cool off," he said, and he grinned.

Before Steve could do or say anything, his head was pushed under. Ice water shocked his very being, the cold shooting up through his face to the back of his head, to his spine down to his toes. He thought to feel ice cubs floating around. He swallowed some of the freezing water in surprise, air bubbles leaving his nose and mouth immediately. He tried to come up again, but to no avail. One hand gripped his hair tight, and the other pushed down between his shoulder blades.

Seconds seemed to last minutes. After what seemed to be half an hour the man pulled him back up from the water. He gasped for breath, choking on swallowed water and he coughed violently. He stayed up for a little while, allowed to catch his breath for what seemed to be way too short. Then he was pushed under again.

A sharp pang shot through his skull. A large bubble of air managed to escape his mouth. There was no air, he couldn't breathe. The cold bit his bare skin and stole his warmth. Shivers started to work through his frame. Memories of planes, snow and freezing water were called back to him. A crash, the cold an unwelcome pressure on his chest. A woman's voice on the radio cut off, a dance never played, water seeping in.

His chest was heaving as soon as he was pulled up again, his attempts to suck in air more desperate than before. He coughed up swallowed water, droplets rolling down from his hair over his face and down his neck to his spine. Again, a shiver worked through him.

"Next time, you will pay attention and answer our questions, got it?" the man didn't wait for an answer.

Steve took a big breath before he was pushed under once more. His lungs were burning, he couldn't do this. He couldn't hold on. The man kept him under longer than the previous times. He struggled to break free, but the man's grip was one of iron. It would not let go. He was stuck in the freezing water, calling back unwanted memories, running out of air in his lungs.

When he couldn't hold his breath any longer and breathed in, it was at the exact moment the man pulled him up again. For a moment the men held him up, but then he let go. With both his arms tied on his back, he had nothing to hold on to and so Steve fell to the floor, coughing and retching. He threw up the water he had breathed in almost immediately.

Just before he could try to fill his lungs with air the man kicked him in the ribs, forcing the little air he had left out of his lungs. The man kicked again and again. Something cracked, Steve cried out in pain. The man twisted his hand into Steve's hair and pulled him up again, forcing him to the water's surface and pushing him right under once more. Black spots danced in his vision, dark edges surrounding all that he saw.

He started to lose consciousness. It felt somewhat peaceful, no more pain. Just a certain coolness sweeping over his body and taking all the pain away. He wished to stay in it, in this dark environment with no air that would soon put him out of his misery. He stopped fighting, ready to welcome the eternal sleep with open arms.

At that moment he was cruelly pulled out, air forcing its way into his nose and mouth. He threw up all the water he had swallowed and coughed with long breaths he did not have.

He barely registered it as they pulled him back to the iron chair, opening the cuffs and forcing his arms onto the armrests to strap them back down. His legs were strapped to the chair legs again too. Coughing hurt, but it was all he could do to suck in air feeling cold against his mouth and throat. He was still shivering, water seeping from the top of his head to this chest and back. His head felt clearer, the fog chased away by the cold. But at the same time, he still felt numb.

"There, there, that is better, is it not?" the sickly-sweet voice asked.

He shook his head shortly, more trying to shake the water away than saying 'no'. She had a pen in her hand, and took off the cap, holding it ready. "Would you like to continue the session, or are you now willing to give us the information?"

His voice trembled as he spoke, shivers still wracking through his body and ice colds beads of water rolling down his back, "G-go to h-hell."

She smiled slightly at him, reaching out a hand to stroke her fingers along his face. "Captain, contrary to what you may believe, you have the power here. You can make this stop."

Steve moved his face away from here, wanting to escape the fingers with the long, sharp nails. She grabbed his jaw again instead, holding his face towards her as she stared him into the eyes without blinking once. "It is all in your hands. Tell us where the flash drive is, the one that the Black Widow took from AIM, and we can end this."

He didn't react and started at the wall far behind her.

"Can I end this, Captain Rogers, please?"

"Screw you," Steve spat out.

She sighed, taking her hand back and regarding her nails for a moment. "What do you imagine is happening here? Do you think you are being brave, that you are the hero of this story? Well, you are no hero, Steve. You are just bad at your job."

"And you're better?" Steve glared at her.

"So much better," she answered. "You sit there, high up in your Tower, waiting for a threat to show itself and then you go catch it. You get word a body has dropped, or some dangerous virus is being transported, you check it out, and maybe you even kill the bad guys. But that person is still dead, and most likely a few more. But my people? We plan ahead.

"We use our enemies' strength against them. Back home, in Sokovia, every thoroughfare, every bridge, every dock, every airport is being watched. The moment a threat steps foot in our waters, we know about it. Within 20 minutes, they have been picked up. And within 40, they are dead. There has not been a single SHIELD agent or any other threat to come and stop us in years because we are good at our job.

"Now, it is no secret you have always been a lost cause, Steve, but I am hoping there are other SHIELD agents, perhaps even other Avengers, we _can _work with, teach our ways. So, I need you to give me that flash drive, names and locations of the other Avengers and everything else. Dead drops, meeting places, an organizational hierarchy, because perhaps with all of us working together, we can do what you never could – make the world a safe place, starting with America."

Steve was silent during her whole monologue, then he scoffed at her. He had almost spit in her face, wasn't it for the fact he still thought he was above that. Snapping her neck after he was done here, sure. But spitting in her face crossed his line a bit, even though they had just tortured him for sixty hours straight.

"Uhuh. And what about the ones that don't want to cooperate, like me?" he asked, "Are you going to tie them to a chair too? Perhaps you do worse than that. Perhaps… you can go to Hell."

Doll-face placed the cap back on the pen, making sure it closed with a loud click. "I have to admit, you can take more than I thought beforehand… I do not think we are able to break you through physical torture before your body succumbs to it. I think we have to try a different approach."

She stood up straight. The man next to Steve came up when she gave her sharp jerk with her head towards the door. They walked out together, leaving Steve all alone for the first time in sixty hours. For the first time since this all began sixty hours ago, he had more than a few minutes of silence. He sat there alone, with only the silence to keep him company.

The pain did not take a break, it kept burning and playing with his nerves, gleefully stabbing his brain over and over again, while it also hit a hammer against the inside of his skull at the same time. He closed his eyes, hoping to sink away in a deep, dark, eternal sleep. The pain kept him awake, it did not want to let him ago.

How long it had been, he did not know. A few minutes? Longer than usual, he did know that. The door opened again, and the two came back inside. They didn't seem to be carrying anything, had not taken anything back from their little trip. Steve regarded the two carefully nonetheless. He didn't trust it.

The man looked at the women shortly, "Miss, if you want him dead, then I'll slit his throat right now, no problem. But if you want to take this to the next level, you might need to consider bringing in the Doctor."

"And have that psychopath be around me all the time? Do not think so. We shall do this my way."

"He will not be happy if he finds out you will be using his invention."

"I do not care. We want results, right? Let us get them."

She walked right at Steve. He pushed his body back against the chair in response, needing to flee, needing to hide. It had no point. The man walked up at him from behind, grabbed his head no matter what he tried, roughly tilting it to the side so his neck was exposed. She took a syringe from her pocket. _That must be what they were going to pick up when they left_, Steve thought.

"Last chance, Steve. Last chance, or instead of breaking your body, we will be breaking your mind."

He didn't answer, just tried to move his head but the hands kept it in place, the fingers dug painfully into his scalp. He was still ice cold, but the rapid pounding of his heart made him feel hot. He didn't want this, he was scared. He wanted to escape, _needed _to escape. He didn't want that needle in his body. He had no idea what was in it, but he didn't want to find out either.

She saw him look with uncertainty in his eyes, a smug expression making its way across her face. "It is a hallucinogen, containing the tropane alkaloids of several deliriant plants, and diverse kinds of fear stimulators combined. If we use too much your brain would liquefy, which we do not want, of course."

Steve didn't answer, he forced himself to stare directly into her cold eyes.

"Despite the fully legal status of several common deliriant plants, deliriants are largely unpopular as recreational drugs due to the severe and sometimes unpleasant nature of the hallucinations produced. Which is exactly what we _do _want, in this case. We call it 'the Eternal Torment', because once it starts it is like it never stops." Her smile was one like a shark, teeth white and on display, lips curled up and a hunger in her eyes.

The man still held his head to the side, to make it easier for the woman to stab the needle into his neck, right into his artery. The cold liquid did not take long to spread through his veins, forcing its way through his neck down to his chest. The man let go of his head, and it fell forward by itself.

Adrenaline flooded his being. It pumped and beat in his veins like it was trying to tear itself free. His heart pumped so hard it felt like it could explode any second from now on, his eyes were wide with fear. His mind and body were screaming at him he had to run, run fast, escape. He had to get away from here, away from this room.

He wanted to take one great leap off the seat and run to safety, but he was stuck to that stupid chair. His adrenaline surged so fast he almost vomited, he could taste saliva thickening in his throat and mouth, droplets of sweat trickling down his brow.

"Do not fight it, Steve, just give in."

Before his eyes there was a light so bright he had to close his eyes, or he was afraid he'd go blind. He turned his head away, breath cutting in his throat. The light fought its way through his closed eyelids, sneaking underneath his lashes. His eyes hurt, they burned. His whole body was on fire.

Oh, the pain and the fire! It felt as though a kettleful of boiling water had been poured into his mouth. His throat and his chest burned, his lungs collapsed and there was no air. Then very quickly the frightful burning searing scorching feeling started spreading down into his chest and into his stomach and on and on into his arms and legs and all over his body. He screamed and screamed and tried to get rid of the pain.

Then it stopped.

* * *

_Steve felt he was lying on his stomach on the floor. The pain disappeared as fast as it came, and he was left heavily panting and exhausted. Whatever it was that had hit him, it had drained him from all his energy. He felt tired and so odd. He felt like himself, but at the same time not exactly. His body was so light, a helium balloon in the sky, a feather in the wind, weightless in space._

_Chilly air caressed his skin, grazing his cheeks and chilling his bones. The floor underneath him moved, it rocked back and forth, its relentless whining and groaning piercing his ears. The ebb and flow of movement brought him back to consciousness. His eyes opened slowly, and he looked at a grey wall made of metal. Huh? He looked the other way, grey display racks with suitcases and boxes on it._

_There was a loud bang, and someone cried out. It was a cry of pain, and he was shaken awake fully. His head shot up and his body did too. Suddenly, he wasn't tired anymore, suddenly, he could do nothing but run to a large hole in the grey wall and see a gigantic, snowy cliff. He was in a train, riding through the mountains. Underneath him there was an abyss._

_He looked to his side, and saw a familiar face hang on to a bar from the part of the train that had been blown off._

_"__Bucky!__"__ he yelled._

_He wasted no more seconds, he stepped to the edge and climbed out, holding his hand out to his best friend._

_"__Grab my hand!__"_

– God please, no. Not this. –

_Bucky stretched out his hand too, a terrified look in his eyes. Steve begged in his mind, he needed to save his friend. Please, please, please. He needed to save Bucky, just this time. There was a loud clunk and before Steve could grab Bucky's hand his friend had plunged down._

_He heard himself scream, cry out Bucky's name._

* * *

Then he fell too. He fell into a deep dark abyss. Blackness all around him, covering him like a blanket. He fell and he fell and he fell. Wind blew along his body, his eyes stung, and his limbs flailed. How long was he going to fall? Was he going to plunge to his dead too, like Bucky?

"I think it's working…" a voice spoke from far away.

* * *

_The falling stopped abruptly. He was sitting in a chair, not strapped down this time, his hands on a steering wheel. Through the radio he heard a voice. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks when he realized who was talking._

_"__Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?__"_

_His voice responded in full auto-pilot. __"__You know, I still don't know how to dance.__"_

_"__I'll show you how. Just be there.__"_

_"__We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your–__"_

_There was a crashing sound louder than he'd ever heard before. Louder than the explosions echoing around the battle field. Louder than bullets or tank missiles. The nose of the plane was crumpled in an instant, the motor failing, and the equipment shut off, Peggy was cut off, white static replacing what had once been her sweet voice. Peggy was gone. She was gone._

_His body jerked to the dashboard, his forehead colliding with the steering wheel. The windows shattered as the plane crashed halfway into the ice, sliding forward across the fragile, frozen surface for a moment before it broke underneath the plane's weight. Because it had nothing left to lean on, the back dropped into the sea, water immediately beginning to seep in._

_The plane moaned, almost as if it were in pain. The thicker ice that had been supporting its side broke too, and the plane fell back with a heavy, jerking motion, sinking deeper into the water. Water gushed inside through the broken windows and holes in the walls of the plane._

_He should have paid attention to that, should have at least notice it. But the pain was all that occupied his thoughts at the moment. _

_His bones and muscles and joints and organs felt like they were being crumbled and smashed into a tiny box. His lungs contracted with such force that he was afraid they would fold into themselves. His torso and head had smashed up against the steering wheel before him while his arms and legs had been flailing, searching for somewhere to hold on to and stop the forward movement his body was going._

_The pit-feeling in his stomach from the falling plane was gone, the plane was barely moving now. Not that that felt any better. It truly wasn't any better. If anything, it felt terrifying. Everything that happened in the past hour was a blur, and some of the things seemed to be erased from his memory. What did he remember?_

_Inside the Valkyrie there had been multiple fighter planes with their targets written on them: Boston, Chicago, New York. Steve had managed to disable the fighter planes and their pilots after much struggle, but he had done it. He remembered entering the cockpit where Schmidt was waiting._

_He remembered flinging his shield at Schmidt who was then thrown back into the cubic console. Schmidt picked up the cube and energy started to pour from it, revealing a window into space. A stream of blue energy engulfed Schmidt and took him into the sky. The cube fell to the ground and burned through it until it fell into the sea below._

_Steve remembered taking over the plane's controls, on a screen he read the target was New York City, and tried the radio, maybe it still worked. Luckily, it did. And it was picked up by the HYDRA control tower occupied by Peggy and Phillips. Peggy told him to give his coordinates, to wait just a little longer; they could figure something out. But Steve knew there was no time, he had to put her into the water._

_The world must have kept flickering its figurative light switch because his vision kept flashing from bitter darkness to blinding white light. The only sound that filled his ears was the crushing of glass mixed with the distinct crackles of the ice. He had taken bad hits before, but this was by far one of the worst._

_It didn't only hurt, at the same time it felt numbing. He was slumped against the steering wheel, eyes blinking slowly, his head bleeding and a sudden tiredness taking over. The flashes turned dark; the last bit of light disappearing as the plane sunk even deeper. They didn't flick back on, there was only darkness left. Snow blew outside, sticking to the windows and darkening all that there was. A blanket of coldness, around the plane and around his heart._

_He was still alive. The plane had crashed but he was still alive. That thought didn't make Steve feel relieved or happy though. He was wet and cold and isolated on a field of ice, in a plane that was still sinking, knowing fully well how nobody would get to him in time._

_But he had done his job._

"There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me."

_With much pain and labored movements, he managed to push himself away from the steering wheel, falling from the pilot seat to the ground with a dull thump, and a pain-filled grunt. He had no idea if his bones were broken, by now he felt so numb and he felt like his head was going to explode. With much effort, he rolled onto his back and just stayed there, feeling the plane sink deeper underneath him. He shivered, the cold creeping over him and ice water soaking his clothes. He was going to freeze to death._

_The plane made a heavy, jerking motion and they sunk deeper. More water gushed in and covered the floor. With his cold he doubted he would drown before he would freeze to death. Was this really how Captain America was going to end? Was this really how he was going to end the journey of life? It seemed pointless, but also oddly calming at the same time. _

_He was done, he had done his job. He had saved people. He had saved his country._

_And that the reason why he was created, wasn't it?_

"You're an experiment. You're going to Alamogordo."

"But sir, the serum worked."

"I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough."

_He closed his eyes, wondering if anyone would ever find his body. And if they did, would they bring it back to be buried with his mom and dad, since Bucky was never buried? But either way, they would have service for him, and that would be nice. The priest would say the words and he would be at rest. After years of running at full speed, barely seeing where he was going but always continuing because he knew it was right, he could finally rest._

_He felt bad though, for leaving his men, and he regretted everything he had never told Peggy, and that he wouldn't be there for her now. He wouldn't get that dance after all. He could try to keep hope, to have faith that maybe he would reunite with his girl, but he doubted that too. He was too far away, the plane was broken, he was sinking into the ice, water was flowing inside, and he already felt himself slipping away._

_The thing he was satisfied about, was what he had achieved. He thought it would be right to be proud of himself. The last few years, he had fought day after day, week after week, month after month. And now he was done. The war was over. The last few HYDRA cells were being wiped off the map, but their leader was gone, their power source was gone, their largest base was gone. They were done for it._

_They had wanted to keep him in a lab, or on the stage. Make him a chorus girl… well, he was even less loved than a chorus girl. _

"You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I'm wearing tights."

_He had been surrounded by so many people, yet he felt so alone. Now he really was all alone, slowly slipping in and out of consciousness in the cold._

_There was so much pain too; the more the adrenaline faded the more pain tickled through. Blood seeping through the open wounds and his whole body felt bruised. His healing was fast, but not this fast. He could barely move, he was tired, he couldn't think. He could only let himself rest and relax, waiting for the inevitable._

_He was going to miss them, he was going to miss Peggy and his men. He was going to miss Howard Stark. He had never really done the things he wanted. He missed out on so many things, didn't have the chance to do anything. But he had a good reason, he was saving the world. With Peggy. God, if only he had taken that dance._

_He felt an annoying stinging behind his eyes and something hot slipped down his temples, his nose became stuffy and his bottom lip quivered slightly. The right moment would never come again. It was gone, poof, in the wind. The moment of his dance was never going to come again, he had blown that chance. He could not be selfish, he had sacrificed himself for his country, for the world, wasn't that what the thousands of soldiers had done before him? _

_But, he thought, trying to blink the tears away and feeling the water level rise to kiss the side of his head coldly. At least he did his part, right?_

_He got the job done, and that was what counted._

_If he died alone, bleeding out and freezing, that was all Bucky got too._

_So that was alright._

_That was alright._

* * *

"What do you think he's dreaming about?" came the cold, distant voice again.

No, please. Please stop this. He didn't want to relive those moments again, he couldn't take that.

He was falling. Falling, falling, falling. Deeper down to the center of the Earth were the steaming hot magma burned his back and scorched his skin. He was screaming and crying, pain, pain, pain. So much pain. He wanted it to- he _needed _it to stop. It hurt too much. He wasn't going to hold on. He was going to let go, his hands were slipping. He could not go on much longer.

In a moment, he was going to break, he could feel it. He was going to give up soon and all would be for nothing. All the torture and pain would be for nothing, as it did not matter how long he had withstood it, he had given up anyway. He was weak like that. Weak like he had always been told.

* * *

_The faint morning light of the sun poured through the cracks in the blind and cast a line on the ground. As the minutes passed by, it crawled from the floor up to the bed, reaching the taller man first and it ticked his eyes._

_A hand was lifted, rubbing the dreams and clinging sleep away from his eyes as he slowly freed himself from the clutches of the night. He shifted slightly under the soft sheets, opening his eyes to regard the new morning. He let himself soak in the warmth of his covers and something laying against him, providing him with extra warmth. He blinked lazily, turning his head to feel fluffy hair tickle his chin._

_A person. A person with brown hair who was smaller than him. It was Tony. For some reason, Steve did not feel surprised, he merely smiled and leaned down a little to press a kiss to the brunet's temple. Tony and he had never shared a bed before, been only on a few dates, trying to figure out what this spark between them was._

_From the moment he met Tony, he's felt this attraction towards him. Perhaps he didn't like Tony that much back then, since he was acting rude, mean and was making hurtful comments towards him. But eventually they made up, fought the aliens, and went for shawarma. Tony and Steve stayed the longest, talking about the future and Tony's inventions. Steve had really enjoyed himself that evening, mainly because Tony never seemed to have a problem to keep talking._

_They liked the talking, and met up again to continue their conversation. It had been innocent at first, no more than friends just hanging out. Until it was something more than that. Until Tony had pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek and Steve decided he liked that. He really liked it. A third meeting came up, and they shyly agreed to call it a date._

_Steve smiled down at the person next to him, briefly burying his nose in the top of Tony's head, taking in his scent. His arm slipped around Tony's shoulders, going underneath his neck and curling around it so Tony's throat was in the crook of his elbow. He pulled his hand back over Tony, so he held Tony in an arm lock. Why? He didn't under-_

_Then he squeezed. He made the space between him and his arm smaller, pulling Tony back against his chest tightly. The brunet's eyes flew open, revealing shocked brown eyes. Those brown eyes crossed his, wide and confused, begging him to know why… Tony tried to breathe, he couldn't. He was stuttering, trying to breathe in the air. Steve pulled his arm even tighter. Tony was fighting, kicking his legs and his arms flailing out._

– No, no, no, NO. Stop that! What are you doing?! –

_Steve squeezed his eyes closed, adding more strength to what his arm was doing. He waited for about a minute, then there was a silence and Tony was limp against him. He opened his eyes and looked again, his arm slipping back to himself. Tony was lying there, but something was wrong. Steve came up, frowning, and felt with his fingers in Tony's neck. Nothing. Tony wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing._

_"__Tony?__"__ Steve asked, panic seeping in. __"__Tony!__"_

– Stop it! Please! Just stop this! –

_He started shaking the other man, panic taking over his vision and he was trying to wake Tony up, but it had no point- his heart didn't beat. What had he done? What did he do? Oh God, he had killed Tony, he had done something horrible. __WHAT DID HE DO?!_

_"__Tony!__"_

* * *

The cold voice echoed through. "I think we are getting closer. Captain Rogers, are you willing to give us the information?"

He was vaguely aware of his body, eyes unseeing but ears hearing. It all sounded a mile away, muffled by thick glass between him and the others. "S-screw… y-you…" he managed to say, though his voice was more of a whisper.

"Alright then."

A bright flash blinded him once more.

* * *

_Tables._

_Tables filled with equipment. Circuit boards, computers, connectors, chip sets, iron components. He looked around, and saw many more equipment pieces. A Christmas song was silently playing in the background. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner, and the room was decorated with garlands and bulbs in red, gold, purple and green colors hung from the furniture._

_He was breathing heavily, unable to twist his mind around what was happening. He was in Tony's lab. The one in Avengers Tower, where Steve had been a lot of times. What was happening? How was he here? Why was he here?_

_"__Merry Christmas__,"__ a voice said._

_Steve spun around, and saw Tony walk at him. He held two glasses of champagne in his hands, and he had a Santa hat on his head. He looked adorable, a beautiful smile lighting up his face as he walked closer at Steve, giving him one of the two glasses._

_"__Merry Christmas you too,__"__ Steve said back, unable to keep his eyes off the other, even when he took a sip of the drink._

_Tony sat down on his workbench, before Steve, and took a sip of his drink also. Then he pouted. __"__Why aren't you wearing the hat I gave you? It looked so great on you!__"_

_Steve chuckled, his hand reaching out to tuck some unruly strands of brown hair behind Tony's ear. Tony leaned into his hand, eyes soft and trusting. "I forgot, sorry. I'll wear it next time, promise."_

_The words made their way out of his mouth, but he had no idea what they meant or where they came from. They weren't his, they didn't belong to him. Something was happening, and it was bad, what was going to happen? Where was he? Why was he here? This wasn't one of his memories either._

_Steve's hand slid down, going to the bottom of Tony shirt, playing with it. A sly smile worked its way across Tony's face. They both set down their drinks, and Tony pulled his shirt over his head to bare his chest for Steve. The arc reactor was glowing steady as ever, a slight buzzing reaching their ears._

_"__I guess you'll be getting your Christmas present early this year,__"__ Tony said, leaning closer to Steve._

_Steve leaned forward too, brushing their lips together. __"__Oh really? And what's that?__"_

_"__Me, of course.__"_

_Steve leaned in a bit more, releasing soft puffs of breaths, tickling Tony's lips. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth, moving slightly to press another one against the other corner. Tony's hand slipped to Steve's waist, pulling him in a little closer. Steve's hand went up to trail across Tony's chest, fingers stroking lightly as he kissed the man of his dreams once more._

_"__Well,__"__ Steve whispered, lips parting for a moment, __"__Merry Christmas to me indeed.__"_

_They slotted their lips back together, Steve's hand going further in exploration. He eventually found a soft trembling underneath his fingertips, feeling a sense of warmth. He knew it was Tony's arc reactor, bared for him in a way Tony did for very few. A sign of trust and comfort, Tony felt easy around Steve._

_His mistake._

_Steve's fingers enclosed around the arc reactor, twisted it to the side with a sharp flick of his wrist, and yanked his hand back. The blue, humming device lay in his hand, Tony's eyes widened, and they parted immediately. Tony was breathing in short, wheezing breaths. His chest was convulsing, he couldn't breathe._

_The arc reactor hummed again, Steve looked at it with a blank expression. This was what kept the great Tony Stark alive._

– What are you doing? Put that back! You're killing him! –

_Steve closed his hand to a fist and crushed the small thing in his hand, pieces cutting in his hand, drawing blood, but he didn't care. Tony fell off the table, convulsing on the floor for a little longer while Steve dumped the broken arc reactor pieces on the ground next to him. Tony lay still, eyes wide open and shocked by the betrayal of someone who he loved. Death glossed over, taking this soul with him._

_It was then that Steve's heart collapsed, and everything snapped apart. A scream broke free when he saw what he had done. Again._

_"__TONY!__"_

* * *

His eyes opened to the pretty doll-face. Instead of copper, he tasted salt on his lips. His head ached, there was something tight around his forehead, keeping his head to the back of the iron chair. Instead of bathing in blood he was bathing in sweat. He blinked slowly, silent sobs stuttering over his lips.

"Hi there, champ," doll-face said, "Ready to tell us now? Or would you like to go for another ride?"

The familiar hand with nails like knives caught his chin, making him look into those eyes. Was he awake? Was it over? Tears still flowed freely over his face. If he had to watch another one of those horrible nightmares, he would give up. His mind would crumble, and his heart would not be able to take it.

The adrenaline was still racing through him, his heart hammering away and his head throbbing. He wanted it to stop, wanted to beg her to make it stop. Those were nightmares, he knew, but they felt so real. They were so real. He felt his head slam against the steering wheel, felt the cold around him, heard Bucky's scream echo in his ears, felt the blood tickle down his body.

Tony's heart in his hand, the metal and glass cutting his hand as he crushed it in his fist. The look of terror and betrayal in Tony's eyes… Only thinking about having to go through that again made him want to throw up. He couldn't lose them, not again. Just dying would be okay too. Everything to be freed from this torture.

He had to hold on. Lives were at stake. Tony's, Natasha's, Clint's, Bruce's. All of SHIELD's. He had to protect them. He was the only thing standing between HYDRA and the Avengers. He had to stop them, he couldn't let HYDRA hurt his friends. He was not going to give up on them, not going to sell them out.

There was a hand stroking his hair, he hated it. She treated him like a pet, like he was just a toy for her to play around with. "Just give us the information, Steve," her voice said, soft and gentle. She must have practiced for that. "If you give it to us, this will all be over in a moment. I promise."

More small sobs left his lips, he sniffled and blinked a few times. Fresh tears kept dripping down, no intention to stop any time soon. He shook his head, not being able to tell her to screw off. Involuntary whimpers made their way out of his mouth together with the sobs. How long was this going to take? How long where they going to continue?

A shake of his head.

Doll-faced sighed, but it was the man who spoke, "Ma'am, I don't think it's wise to give him another shot. You said it yourself, too much of this-"

"He is a super soldier, he will survive. I will only be using a little, so do not worry."

His head was tilted to the side by someone, he did not resist. All his muscles were aching, his body was too heavy. He couldn't move, could barely even keep his eyes open, he could only let out pained noises. A needle pierced his skin.

It happened faster than the previous time. He was pulled back violently, dragged into a new abyss of darkness and silence. He screamed, screamed so hard his throat went sore. Long, sticky tentacles wrapped around his arms, legs, torso and even his head. They squeezed the breath out of him. A skull face appeared above him, smiling wickedly. It bared long, pointy teeth at him, hissing lowly. He fell and he fell, the hydra beast never loosening its grip.

A tentacle slipped over his mouth, muffling his screams and cries, shutting him up effectively.

Everything became dark.

* * *

_There was red everywhere. A red liquid covered the floor and formed a haze in his eyes. He blinked a few times, tears rolling down his cheeks to gather at his chin, forming a bigger droplet before splattering onto the ground. He was on his knees._

_It seemed every corner, every wall of the room ruined by the gore of the red, flowing liquid. He didn't understand. His hands were red, his arms were too. His shirt was dirty and soaked with it. Large patches on his pants. Where was he? What was happening?_

_His hands clenched, and then he noticed he was holding something, in his right hand. His eyes moved to gaze at what he was holding. A butcher's blade, coated in a thick, red liquid like the rest of him. His hand, the handle, the blade, everything. It dripped down along the edges, to the point aimed at the ground before falling. _

_Blood._

_Steve dropped the knife at once, pressing his hands over his mouth to muffle the scream that tore its way out. He tasted blood on his lips, his tongue was coated in it and it made its way down his throat. It had a smell, an odor, he could not quite place. It tasted like an old copper spoon in his mouth. Blood. He was covered in blood. Was it his?_

_He fell back from his knees onto his behind, scrambling away from the small pool of blood and the knife lying in the middle of it. His hands were behind him, bumping against something. He turned, and a scream echoed through the room. His scream._

_Two blue eyes stared at the ceiling, glossed over, dead. Sand-blonde hair stained with blood, in his hand a bow, broken arrows lay scattered around him._

_"__Clint?__"__ Steve sobbed._

_The archer had multiple stab wounds in his chest, clothes cut through and the size matched Steve's exact butcher knife. Blood lay in a puddle around the dead Avenger, soaking in his clothes and coloring the ground._

_Steve scrambled back again, the other way. He had done this. He had murdered his friend. He had killed Clint. He did this. He killed- he was a murderer. A monster._

_When he set his hand back, he dipped it into something wet and almost slimy. He turned around, looking at his hand as he lifted it back up. Old blood stuck to his fingers, his hand quivered. He caught sight of what was before him. The blood that had flowed so freely from the sliced throat now lay in pools around the corpse and soaked into his light cotton clothing like some garish Halloween dummy. Only this was his friend. Eyes wide open, lips parted. Deep brown hair._

_"__B-Bruce? No…__"_

_More sobs broke free and Steve pushed himself up, running away as fast as he could. In his blind panic, he didn't look where he was going, and he tripped over something large. His eyes shot back, this time long blonde hair lay spread around a head like a halo. His eyes were closed, blood dried up around his mouth. "Thor!"_

_No, no, no, no. Had killed them!_

– No, he hadn't! He didn't do this! It was fake! It's not real! –

_He ran the other way, faster, faster, faster._

_A shadow was in the room with him. A person, alive and well. Who was it? He caught sight of the shadow, slowly walking closer in an even pace. A figure stepped out, a pretty face with green eyes and hair like flames._

_"__Natasha?__"__ Steve asked._

_He set a step forward, but fell through his knees. His hand scraped across the ground, blood starting to drip out. His own blood. He looked up at the woman before her. __"__Nat?__"_

_"__You killed them, Steve,__"__ she told him. From out of nowhere, a bucket of ice water was dumped over his body. He gasped and shivered. Ice droplets ran down his neck and his back. Blood washed away, the water staining red, the evidence of his gruesome deeds. He was cold, so cold._

_"__You are nearly done.__"__ Her voice was not normal. It was a deep, echoing drum, vibrating through the air like a demon's voice. She smiled widely, showing Steve her pointy teeth._

_"__Natasha, no…__"__ he whispered._

– Don't look, it's not real. Don't do what she says. It's just a dream! –

_He was standing before a chair. The room was illuminated with lamps. He stood with bare feet on a fluffy rug. All the blood was gone, and so were the bodies. In the chair sat a person, his hands tied behind the backrest. He had a bag over his head and Steve could hear panicked breathing. He wanted to clench his hands to fists, and then saw he held a gun in his hand. He could not let go of it. He was not in control._

_Natasha appeared again, behind the chair, and she yanked the bag from the person's head. The person blinked a few times, eyes needing time to adjust to the sudden brightness. Steve's heart dropped, but he stayed entirely still. It was Tony._

– No, not Tony. Please not Tony. Please, please, please –

_Tony's eyes found him, they were confused, __"__Steve? What's going on?__"_

_More tears worked free from his eyes, but he found himself unable to close them. He couldn't move, couldn't turn away. He kept looking at Tony tied in the chair, scared and confused. "Steve? Why am I tied up?"_

_Natasha grinned from behind the chair, a forked tongue darting out from between her lips. "Do it,__"__ she said._

_The gun was raised, aimed between Tony's eyes._

_"Steve? How-wow, wait, what are you doing?"_

_He pulled back the hammer, and the gun clicked._

– Fuck, Steve, get a hold of yourself! Stop it, don't! Wake up, man, WAKE UP! –

_"__Steve, please.__"_

_Tony's doe brown eyes filled up, and a choked sob tore from Steve's throat. He didn't care anymore, he let all the sobs break free. His crying turned into something hysterically, something uncontrollable, tears pouring down his cheeks. He sobbed and he sobbed and he sobbed, starting to shake all over and hiccup, he was crying so much._

_He was begging Natasha to stop, begging anyone and everyone to stop. To let him go. To please make it stop. It didn't._

_"__Please, make it stop!__"__ he cried. __"__Please!__"_

_Nothing happened, Steve's finger lay on the trigger. His head ached and his heart hurt, he was so close to breaking down completely. His cries were noisily, making loud, convulsive gasps in between and he couldn't do this. Please, it had to stop!_

– It's not real, just wake up and you'll see! Wake up wake up wake up! –

_His finger twitched and pressed. A loud bang echoed through the room. Blood splattered up, coated the walls, flew onto Steve, stuck to his clothes. Brains splashed around._

_There was a scream from deep within that forces its way from his mouth. It was the loudest most piercing scream he had ever let go before. It sounded like a scream of wild panic. A scream of hysteria and disbelief, bordering on terror._

_The gun dropped from his hand, hysterical cries wracking his body as he slumped to the ground, yelling, screaming, crying. He clawed the carpet, blind panic, rage and pure sadness overflowing his senses. He cried and he cried, clawed at the floor, dragged his nails over the stone ground, pulled at his hair, begged for mercy, called for Tony. He called Tony's name repeatedly, begging for him to come back._

_Begging for it to stop, to let him go, to give him his Tony back. He screamed and thrashed his limbs around until there were no tears left to cry nor any energy left to spent. Then he lay on the ground, body trembling, hiccups leaving his mouth, whimpers filling the room._

_His eyes closed._

* * *

A coldness against his back, and the blood red lips in his vision told him he was awake again. Out of the abyss of dreams. There had only been one this time, but it was a million times worse than the others. So much more vivid, more blood, he had killed all his teammates. He wanted it to stop, please, to make it stop. He couldn't- bile pushed up his throat, but he managed to swallow it back.

He had killed all of them, butchered them without a reason. He was a murderer, he shot Tony in the face- he was evil. He had to be killed, he deserved to be tortured.

"Peek-a-boo," the red lips said, "Are you ready to tell me now?"

A whimper of fear came out instead of an answer, together with a small cry and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. It hurt. It hurt so much. It was an attack on his soul and mind. It was shattering his being, taking away all his strength and hope.

But he knew it wasn't real. All the murders in his dreams that he committed, they weren't real. The Avengers were real, they were out there alive and well, not his nightmares. They were vivid and impossible to distinguish from reality when he was living them, but Steve woke up. He woke up every time and then he realized it wasn't real.

He shook his head again, sniffling wetly and letting out another sob. The nightmares weren't real. They were not real. Reality was not present in this small room of pain and torment, what was real was not in here, but out there. He could fight this. It hurt, yes, but no one was getting harmed.

Doll-faced sighed loudly, moving away from him. She stood still for a moment, thinking about what to do. She turned to the man. "Let us use The Chair."

"But… miss–"

"If we cannot make him tell us like this, we will have to make him tell us in a different way."

"The process of the chair takes a long time, he's not ready for that. All the information and suppressing of his memories will become fetal-"

"I do not care!"

She turned to Steve, slapping him in the face to wake him up better, his cheek burned hot, blending in with all the other pain. "Listen. The equipment you see around you? It is a Memory Suppressing Machine. That is a machine used by the Soviet Union and by HYDRA to erase or suppress the memories of a subject. We will do that to you. And together with a few correctly placed words, you will do exactly as we say."

She grinned at him, moving closer. Her nails dug into his jaw, she made herself look taller than him. "Captain America against Iron Man, I wonder who would win, do you not?"

Steve shook his head, more whimpers escaping him. "Please, don't- don't do that. Don't hurt Tony."

Her voice dropped to a gentle, sweet tone, "Captain, _we _will not hurt Tony. _You _will. Unless you tell us what we want to know. Just the flash drive is enough. Just tell us where it is, and we promise, Tony will not be touched. Not by us, not by you. Yes?"

He was breathing heavily, standing before he choice he didn't know how to make. He couldn't give them the flash drive, it had sensitive information on it that HYDRA was not supposed to have, at all. If they got their hands on that kind of information, that could have catastrophic consequences. It could kill hundreds of people, and strengthen HYDRA's position in the bad guy hierarchy, after they had worked so hard to knock them down. But if he _didn't_ do it, they would brainwash him with that machine or whatever it was, and sent him after Tony. To kill him. And who knew what else?

Without Iron Man, the world would be doomed. Iron Man was their best defender. And without Tony Stark… Steve's own world would cave in. "Please," he begged, his voice still trembling, "There has to be another- not like this. Anything, but not this, _please_."

"We do not have to hurt you at all, or Tony, if you just tell us where the flash drive is. It is only a little machine with some information. Do you really want to put that over Tony's life?"

"_Please_." New sobs tore free.

Tony's life was in danger, but so were the lives of hundreds of other people. Other families, other friends, other loved ones. He had to think sanely, was the life of one worth more than the worth of a hundred others? Did the needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many? But the many were not placed before a choice like this.

He couldn't- he couldn't choose. He couldn't pick one. Tony or hundreds of others. Steve would rather kill himself than kill Tony. If a gun was pressed in his hands and it was either him or Tony, Steve would not hesitate and pull the gun on himself. That was why the dreams scared him even more, as he did not have a choice. He couldn't let go of the gun, he couldn't stop himself from aiming it at Tony. He would rather shoot himself, but he couldn't, his finger wrapped around the trigger and before he knew it he had killed Tony.

They wouldn't know it was Steve who was the HYDRA threat, even when he walked right underneath their noses. And like in his dreams, when they least expected it, Steve would lash out and kill them. They wouldn't know anything was wrong until Steve had plunged a knife in their back, or a put bullet in their head.

More pathetic cries made their way through the air, and he shook his head.

"Very well."

Would begging help? Probably not, he had tried it before. Begging, pleading, wishing for another way- but no. They only wanted _this _way. This way that Steve could not walk. The way that split in two but both ends ended bad. Tears dripped down his eyes and his lips were dry as sandpaper.

They forced the backrest of the iron chair back, apparently you could shift it, and Steve felt himself fall back slightly. It was not at all comfortable, the feeling it gave him was akin to the constant falling in his nightmares. He squirmed in the seat, straining against the straps. They were too tight, he couldn't get out. His toes barely grazed the ground, and his breathing fastened.

A whimper escaped his lips as they turned the machine on. He heard a whirring, then a frightening crackle. The pulled something down from above him, putting some sort of iron plates on his face, yet they were not quite touching his skin, only hovering just an inch above. A crackle came from the iron plates, and he whimpered again.

"Because this is your first time in the chair, it will take a while for your memories to fade," Doll-face said, "Relax. And let it happen. Do not fight it."

The machine cracked again, electricity threatening, and fear built in his chest. More fear than before. It was happening. They were going to fry his brain, use him as a puppet and then send him to Tony, only to betray those he loved and then die himself. The man pushed something into his mouth, like a bit, some sort of mouth piece. It tasted like rubber. He could spit it out, but he felt like he was going to need it, so he kept it in.

The man walked over to the machine at his side, hand resting on the panel that would make it all happen. Steve braced himself for as good as he could, and then they started the electricity.

His body convulsed, teeth biting down on the bit as he screamed harder than he thought to have ever screamed before. Screams, screams, screams. It didn't stop, the pain stayed the same, too fierce to ever get used to. He felt his brain burn, everything happened at once. Memories flashed before his eyes too fast to keep track. All he could do was scream. It was like they had thrown acid on his face, like they were slowly forcing his head down in fresh magma.

Even when the door was blown up into the room, and a loud, high-pitched zooming sound made its way to his ears, he screamed.

Even when a familiar shape in the familiar colors red and gold bust into the room, and flashes of light shot around, he screamed.

The machine was shut off, and his screams died down almost immediately. He sagged in the chair, no energy left to do anything. His head fell forward, eyes closing slowly. He couldn't, couldn't do it anymore. He was going to tell them, he was going to tell them what they needed to know. Even though he couldn't recall their faces, he still wanted to tell them… it.

He couldn't remember what exactly that was anymore, but he wanted to tell them. Everything to make this stop. Where was he? Why was he here again? It was all vague, and he only remembered flashes.

Soft hands cupped his cheeks, fingers lying beneath his ears and thumbs on his cheeks. His face was lifted up, but not in the harsh way he remembered a woman grabbing his jaw and pulling his face up. This was not like that. This was gentle, and careful. A hand stroked his damp bangs away from his forehead, a voice speaking to him.

The bit was taken out of his mouth, and he coughed shortly, breath hard to catch. But he when he did catch it, he started to beg. He was going to tell them. He was going to tell them what they needed to know. If please, please they wouldn't make Steve hurt _him_. Who '_him'_ was, he was not even sure of anymore… yes, of course he was. He didn't want to hurt _Tony_.

He never wanted to hurt Tony. He loved Tony, and would never hurt him. Never.

The thumbs caressed his cheeks, the voice continuing the speak but Steve didn't hear. All he saw was a blurry figure, standing before him. Doe brown eyes looking worriedly into his was the last thing he saw before the darkness pulled harder than the light, and he sunk away into oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

_"… perform … scan … control?"_

A distant voice broke into Steve's dreamless sleep. The voice was vague, he couldn't hear most of the words. Neither could his brain put a meaning to them. It was a soft droning entering his ears, bugging his mind with things he did not want to deal with right now. His head was throbbing and pulsating, his brain felt fried and everything hurt. Every muscle, every joint, every sinew and bone. But it was mostly his head, burning with pain as if it was on fire.

He couldn't move, waking up alone was too painful already.

_"I … every scan … nothing…"_ another voice answered.

_"Shouldn't … woken … now?"_ The first voice hissed, on a low tone, as if he was trying to contain himself to be quiet. Were they talking about him? Or someone else? How many people were in this room? As the seconds passed, Steve started to gain more consciousness, he started to feel more aware of himself. He was too tired still to open his eyes, it was as if they were glued shut, but slowly but surely more and more of him started to drift to the surface.

He released a soft puff of breath, fingers twitching the slightest. But more than that he could not do. His body was too heavy, he was too tired. Why had he woken up anyway? Why couldn't he still be sleeping? He was lying on something soft, something that was not the cold, hard stone floor of the prison cell or the iron chair he remembered being strapped to. This was something else. Something entirely different but he could not quite figure out what.

_"Severe damage … enhanced healing … sleep deprivation … dehydration … a wonder … no permanent …"_ the second voice said, voice calm as it explained.

There was a short silence. Steve tried to recall memories of what had happened, why he felt all this pain and where he was. It did not take long before he remembered: the sixty hour torture, the doll-face lady, the cruel men, his head in ice cold water, the drug, the _dreams_. The horrible, horrifying, cruel dreams.

The dreams in which he failed to save Bucky. In which he crashed with the plane into the ice and lay there for minutes knowing he was going to die. The lazy morning with Tony, where he hooked an arm around the throat of the person he loved and then choked him to death. Then he yanked Tony's arc reactor from his chest, butchered all his friends, shot Tony in the face.

Flashes of memories shot before his eyes as if he lived them for the first time. The machine. The mind control. The memory suppressor they had forced his head in…

_Tony!_

Steve took a sharp breath through his nose, eyes opening. He wanted to shoot up to a sitting position, to run run run, to stop himself from doing bad things, to warn Tony. But all he got was a terrible pang of pain dragging through his skull. A low cry flowed over his lips, and instead of getting up he only managed to roll over to his side a bit.

Footsteps approached whatever he was lying on, coming in closer. Doll-face and that man, it had to be them. They must be coming back for other rounds. Put him in that horrible machine again, inject him with more of that drug. Keep going until he had succumbed to them and was nothing more than an empty shell that did whatever they wanted.

His eyes fluttered open, vision blurry for a moment, before it sharpened and Steve managed to see. What he saw make his gut clench with fear.

_Oh God, not again…_

Brown hair, brown eyes, beard and goatee. It was Tony. Tony was walking up at him from the doorway. It was then that Steve realized he hadn't woken up at all. He couldn't be, because how in the world would he have ended up here, with Tony? That couldn't be, he couldn't be here. Tony wasn't safe. He wasn't safe here. Not with Steve, not with the hallucinogen in his blood and that machine messing up his head.

Could he be saved? But when? He didn't remember anything! There was no way he was brought to safety, with Tony safely here. That just wasn't possible!

"Steve," Tony said, breathing out relieved, a smile working onto his face.

No, no, no, not Tony. He had to keep Tony safe, no matter what. He was going to do something bad, he was sure of it. This had to be another one of those horrible dreams they made him see. This was so bad. He had to get away from Tony, and fast.

Before Tony could reach the bed Steve was apparently lying on, entirely out of instinct and after the many times he had seen it go wrong, Steve darted backwards out of the bed and was in the corner of the room in a heartbeat, his head hurting badly because of the movement. His reaction stopped Tony, who then looked confused, and even a little bit hurt.

"Steve, hey, it's just me," he said, "Tony, remember?"

Steve nodded, of course he remembered, but it didn't help, whether he remembered Tony or not was not the problem. The look on his face was one of a wounded dog; cornered, helpless and scared.

"You're okay, you're home now." Tony took a step closer, but stopped when Steve only pressed himself further against the wall behind him. Tony still looked a bit confused, seemingly not knowing what to do. But he then began approaching again, his hands up with his fingers uncurled to show Steve had no intention of harming him.

But Tony understood it all wrong. Had it all wrong. Steve wasn't scared Tony would hurt him, he was terrified he would hurt _Tony_.

This had to be another one of those hallucination dreams. He had never escaped, was never rescued, they just given him another dose of that stuff. He was still in that room, with the straps around his arms and legs, and that doll-face woman before him. That man was standing beside the machine, pressing buttons and doing whatever he needed to do to make that horrible machine work.

God knew what they were doing to his brain right now. They had just put him in that awful machine a few minutes ago, to wipe his memories and to make him into their puppet, they said it would take longer because this was his first time, so what if this was just a way to buy them time? What if this was the machine's influence? He did not even want to know what he was going to do to Tony once they were done.

"Get back!" he snapped at Tony, who came closer again. Tears filled blue eyes, then he added a softer, "Please, get back."

Tony got on his knees in front of him, so they were on eye-level. There was still some distance between them, but not as much as Steve actually wanted. He remembered tightening his arm around Tony's throat, remembered his hand yanking out Tony's arc reactor. He remembered bathing in the blood of his friends and shooting Tony through the head. He remembered screaming and crying.

"A few days ago, you were kidnapped by HYDRA, remember?"

Not were, _is_. He's still there, and he's going to hurt Tony. How would it happen this time? Another gun? Knife? With his bare fists? Was he going to make a rope magically appear and hang Tony? Or perhaps throw him out the window? He didn't know. He was scared, scared because he didn't know. He wanted to know, at least that way he could prepare himself.

"But you're back now. You're back in New York City, in the Avengers Tower."

Steve kept shaking his head, pressing his back against the wall so tight it almost hurt. He wasn't back in the Tower, that was a lie Dream Tony told him, because he didn't know better. Because Dream Tony did not know what kind of danger Steve posed to him, he was just saying what the nightmare wanted him to say, like some twisted movie script.

And why was it taking so long? In the other dreams, he had long done something by now. He would have wrapped his hands around Tony's throat, torn out his arc reactor, got his hands on a gun somehow to shoot Tony in the face. But none of that had happened yet. He hadn't even got up from the corner, or even remotely felt like he wasn't in control of his own body. He felt fine, if he ignored all the pain.

What was happening? Why was he living another dream- another nightmare? He thought they were done with that, and would just brainwash him instead, but they were doing it again. Or was it, like he had thought earlier, a side effect from the machine? Perhaps it was to make him give in easier, to make him comply faster. It made his brain focus on something else, so he wasn't fighting the control.

He wanted it to stop, to escape from here. He needed it to _stop_. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, pathetic whimpers escaped his lips. His breathing was going fast and shallow, in and out before it had even reached his lungs, he began to feel slightly dizzy.

"Steve, can I come closer?"

"No, no, please! _Please_," Steve cried, "Please _stop_."

It wasn't real. It was still a hallucination. He was with HYDRA, they were messing with his mind. They were leaving him in that brainwash machine, making him lose his mind and all that he ever knew. Maybe he had already lost his mind. Who knew what he was doing while he was trapped here in a corner of his dreams, inside his mind? He wouldn't be able to remember, so maybe he was with Tony right now in the real world. Maybe the empty shell that was his body, but not his mind, had already killed him there!

He didn't want to hurt Tony, he'd rather die than do that. Tony didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to die at Steve's hands. It had to stop- he had to get out. Get out of this dream. And this Dream Tony had to stop getting closer because Steve didn't want to hurt him!

"It's okay, Steve, it's okay," Tony shushed, crawling just this little bit closer, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"No, no, no, you h-have to- you have to stay b-back." More sobs tore themselves loose. "I-I don't want to h-hurt you. _Please_, stay back."

Tony looked even more confused. His voice was soft and gentle, and Steve felt even worse, "Steve, why would you say that?"

"Because I will!" Steve cried back, "I hurt you, a-and then I hurt you again. And again, and again, and _again_. I couldn't stop it- I wanted it to s-stop. _Please_, make it stop. I don't want to- I _can't_–"

He took deep gulps of air, only to release them in more sobs and hiccups. He was trembling all over, body shaking with fear and stress. He was trembling. He couldn't- couldn't stop. Even as he curled up into a ball his body shook, it trembled. It was raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions, raw fear. He couldn't stop... He couldn't stop. He had to protect Tony.

Tony… who kept coming closer to him, hands stretched out, reaching for him. He was making soft, shushing noises. Telling Steve, it was alright, but Steve didn't believe it. He trusted Tony, but he didn't trust himself at all. He was going to do something, soon, and it would be bad. It would be worse than the previous times. It had to be.

Tony's inevitable death was being postponed for this long, because that would make the death even more agonizing. Even worse. They made it feel real, so that he was even more broken than before. If this was going to take much longer, he would just give them what they wanted. More tears spilled down, and he pressed himself against the wall harder as Tony tried to come closer. He had to stop crying, and focus on not hurting Tony instead.

"Stop, _please_, Tony, _don't_. You don't understand!"

"No, Steve, I think I _do_," Tony answered, taking another tiny step, "And I want to show you, please let me."

"No! I'm going to hurt you!"

Tony just wouldn't back off, no matter what he said. The way he looked at Steve, so calmly and trusting, it made him feel horrible, because he was going to break that trust. He was going to tear it apart and stomp on it because he couldn't control himself. Because he was too weak to go in against HYDRA. All he could do was cry pathetically while he murdered someone he loved.

Would kicking help? Just trying to kick Tony back a little? It would hurt him, yes, but not kill him. Tony's had worse things, he sparred and boxed, he's been kicked before. Steve felt like he just didn't understand the gravity of the situation, that it was all going to end real bad and it was all going to be Steve's fault. He would hurt his friend badly.

No, this couldn't happen. This was going wrong. He had to–

His eyes fell onto the wall next to him. He had to protect Tony. Keep Tony safe from his hands, from the harm that he was about to do. It would hurt, he knew that, it would hurt a lot. But he was rather hurt badly than killing Tony. It was the only way, he had to stop himself. If he couldn't stop Tony from coming closer, he had to prevent himself from acting out.

Steve leaned back the other way a bit, then slammed his head against the wall as hard as he could. An agonizing pain worsening all the pain that had been there before shot all the way from his head to his toes. Nausea came up in his throat, and a terrible dizziness clouded his mind, and he gasped.

It hadn't been hard enough, he needed to do it again.

But before he could hit his head again in an attempt to knock himself unconscious, hands seized his shoulders and pulled back. Tony's voice was calling his name, sounding distressed. He tried to push the hands away, trying to be careful not to shove Tony away because he was scared he would push too hard and Tony would die somehow.

"Let me go!" Steve snapped, trying to wiggle his way free, but Tony stayed persistent.

Tony grabbed Steve's hands, holding tight, and pulled them towards himself. Steve tried pulling them back, but Tony held them close, pressing the palms against his chest. Steve cried out louder, begging Tony to stop, to get back from him, that it was dangerous. Tony tried to say something too, but Steve didn't let him, he only cried hysterically about how he didn't want to hurt Tony.

"Steve, _feel_, goddammit! Just feel!"

Steve set his jaw, prying his eyes open and stopped struggling. He held his breath, face becoming pale. His hands were on Tony's chest, so close to the arc reactor. There was a shirt between, but still. This was dangerous, he could be hurting him! Tony shushed him softly, keeping his brown eyes on his face, look deadly serious.

Below his fingertips, there was a steady heartbeat. Drumming against skin, constant, slightly faster than a heart would beat in rest, but this was an incredibly stressful situation, so Tony's heart picking up a pace would be normal. But it was there. It was calming down, and after a moment Steve caught his own breathing calming down too. He blinked a few times, swallowing thickly.

"I'm alive, Steve. And you are not going to hurt me."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed, holding his breath and slowly shaking his head. No, Tony was wrong. If not now, then in a few minutes. This wasn't real. HYDRA was cruel, they were dragging this out, making it seem like it was real but it wasn't. He didn't want to, he wanted Tony to be safe. But Tony wasn't safe with Steve. He had to prevent the bad things from happening, he had to stop this.

There was a little low understanding sound coming from before him, and Steve released his breath in uneven strokes, his head dipping down. A few more silent sobs flew from his lips. A light shuffling came from before him, but he didn't dare looking up, eyes slowly closing. Both his hands were then hold by a single one of Tony's. After a few seconds, a hand ran through his hair, fingers threading lightly. At first he jerked his head away, spooked by the sudden touch, but then he stayed still as they tried once more. He closed his eyes tighter, but doing that made the world spin even more, so he opened them again.

Everything was still fuzzy, a black edge surrounding his vision and his brain felt numb, like there was a whole sheep stuffed in there. But he stopped fighting it, he surrendered to it, even. He focused solely on the moving of Tony's fingers along the top of his head, massaging gently just behind his hairline in a way that made Steve want to close his eyes again.

Apart from the breathing of the two men, it was silent in the room. The windows were closed, so there was no sound coming from outside, no bird tweeting or breeze blowing. Tony's breathing was slow and steady while Steve's breath was still hitching so now and then, and he was still trembling, but the tears had stopped. The tracks were clear on his face, but the sobs had died down.

As he came even closer, Tony made another little shushing, comforting noise near Steve's ear, hands now gently massaging Steve's scalp. Steve exhaled again, the tension and stress in his body leaving slowly. Tony's voice was close to him, he was still in control of his body and had not made a single threatening move. There was no blood sticking to his body, nor did he feel any bloodlust.

Carefully, and slightly hesitant, he let himself relax into the touch.

The only bad thing right now, was that Tony kept moving closer. More and more parts of their bodies were touching, and he was getting closer into Steve's reach, closer so that it was easier for Steve to grab him or whatever was going to happen. Steve's hand was still on Tony's chest, keeping track of exactly how Tony's heart was beating, fast or slow. His other hand was in his lap, keeping to himself. Tony's heart kept beating steadily, not even once did it stop or fasten. They were both fine.

But when Tony was sitting awfully close, Steve squirmed uncomfortably, trying to create more distance between them. But there were two walls behind him, and he had nowhere to go.

Tony's shushing eased away most of the new panic building up. The shushing, the hand running through his hair, and the comforting steady beating of Tony's heart made him sleepy. Even more tired than he already was, especially after he had slammed his head against the wall. He felt himself relax, and his eyelids were heavy. He tried to keep them open, though, to keep his eyes on Tony in case something bad happened and he had to react on it.

But nothing happened. There was no sudden change of air, Steve's hands didn't reach out to hurt Tony, nor did he suddenly have a gun or knife to kill Tony with. Nothing happened. Not even when Tony moved up to sit against him, bodies pressed up against each other in a soothing way. Steve felt no need to tear Tony's arc reactor out, or to choke him.

For the first time in a long time, _he_ was in control here, no invisible force that held power over him. He was no puppet moved around by strings HYDRA held in their hands. There was no demon inside him, forcing him to do things that made his heart feel like it was being torn to pieces. No one was forcing him to raise a gun or thrust a knife into his friend's chest. He was the master of his own body, not HYDRA or anyone else.

It felt as if they were both safe. Like they were in the real world rather than the realm or nightmares HYDRA had made for him. And, dare he think it, he had to admit that there was a small chance _this_ Tony really was real, that it was not the Dream Tony whose only role in the world was to die at Steve's hands, over and over again without knowing or realizing.

It was okay. It was all okay.

Tony didn't seem to mind as Steve sagged against him, his head lolling forward in his sleepy haze. He felt Tony's hand slide to the back of his head, guiding it gently to Tony's collarbone, tucked underneath a chin. It felt safe, and Steve curled up against the warm presence of the other body. There was another soft shush near his ear, a whisper that said everything was alright.

Just before his eyes closed, and he was pulled into a deep, peaceful sleep, Steve felt Tony press a kiss to the top of his head.

They were going to be okay.

* * *

He was going to kill them.

Kill. Them. All.

There was a tension of his muscles, an inability to think clearly soon followed.

He was _pissed_. No, he was _furious_. No… even that didn't quite put his rage and anger into words. He felt like his eyes were darkened, and the bursting fire in his chest could explode any moment from now. Clint had walked up at him when he stormed into the living room, with the good and pure intention to ask how Steve was doing after the many hours in the hospital wing, as they were all worried for their team leader and friend.

But one glance at Tony's eyes, _hell_, Tony's whole body, and he stepped back quickly, mouth closed shut. Wise choice. Tony was not reasonable right now, there was a shit storm of accusations, anger and rage in his throat, and he did _not_ want to fall out against anyone who wasn't some HYDRA scumbag. Especially not at people who had helped him find Steve and get him to safety.

Clint had given useful information he had picked up on one of his many stakeouts, and he generally knew where to look, in which area of the map. They had listed a few places Steve could be, but after the successful stakeout Clint scratched a few off the list so they eventually had only one left. With hope in their heart, they gathered the part of the team currently present and went to look. Steve was there.

Yeah, Steve was there, alright. They had attacked the building straight away, full stealth mode. Tony had put on his Iron Man stealth suit, which had darker colors that blended in with the night better, and his thrusters were quieter. They had less power, so they didn't go as fast or blasted as strongly, but he made sure he had enough bullets.

Natasha and Clint went with him, they took out most of the guards, creeping across the perimeter like two deadly ghosts. They all went in, and it didn't take long before they found Steve. When they went in he was _screaming_. It was muffled because of some bit-thing mouth-piece they had forced into his mouth, so he wouldn't grit his teeth too hard, but he was screaming. He was screaming and crying, because they had forced something onto his head and face.

It looked like there was electricity coming from it, and Tony destroyed it immediately. Natasha and Clint took care of the two people in the room, a woman and a man. They were taken captive, as they needed to know what had been done to Steve, so they postponed tearing those two assholes to pieces. The empty syringes and the fucking machine told Tony enough, and he wanted to kill them right away, but Natasha reminded him they had no idea what Steve had been injected with, or what the whole machine thing was, so they had to stay calm.

Tony tried to stay calm, but that was really hard. Especially when he walked up at Steve, carefully took the blonde's face in his hands and tried to look into his eyes, only to see tears and so much pain. He took the thing out of Steve's mouth and then he heard the silent sobs. Not just sobs, no, of course not, the look on Steve's face alone hadn't shattered Tony's heart enough, he needed to hear those quiet whimpers and pleas too.

Steve was repeatedly begging to 'make it stop'. He said 'please' an awful lot of times, and said that he couldn't do it anymore. Then he said, 'please don't make me hurt him'. But before Tony could find out who 'him' was, Steve had passed out. There were more SHIELD agents to help him get Steve back to the Tower, the best medical equipment ready for him.

And in the meanwhile, it was Tony's turn to shine. When all the good people were at a safe distance, and they had taken whatever they wanted to take from there (it wasn't an exceptionally large building, so they were done pretty quick), he went back guns blazing and power blasting. He flew through walls, tore down doors, blew the fucking roof to bits. He set the building on fire, kept punching every last stone until there was nothing left.

Then he stayed with Steve, wanted to stay with him until he woke up. But Steve didn't wake up, not for a long time. He had a restless sleep, constantly moving and trying to get away from the hands that tried to heal. There were more sobs, and Steve woke up a few times only to pass right out again. They eventually had to sedate him, because they were scared Steve would accidentally hurt himself and because the doctors couldn't work like that.

All the events were a five-course dinner for Tony's rage and anger, and this course, like all the others, tasted bitter in his mouth. Not long after he found out that the stuff in the syringes was a hallucinogen; fear stimulators used to create powerful dreams and hallucinations of unpleasant memories, twisting them up into true nightmares, his anger was pushed up a level. The doctors said it was basically a solution that showed you your worst nightmares.

And that right there was the dessert of this whole-ass dinner. It had a fancy menu; with as main course a roaring wildfire of anger, with a pinch of rage on top, and a nice glass of white-hot fury to make the taste of rage pop out better.

What they had done to Steve, was _unforgivable_. What they had done to him was cruel to the highest degree. Being locked up was too good for them, they deserved the most slow, agonizing death, where their bodies would rot while they were still conscious and sucking in air. Locked in a dark dungeon where the rats would chew their flesh and they were screaming into the emptiness around them. Tony imagined their teeth punched out, gums bleeding, eyes stabbed from their sockets, their intestines ripped out and used to choke them- no, their intestines fed to themselves.

How could they have done this to Steve, to _Steve_. To that sweetheart, who had been through so much shit in his life. Steve, who was now even more broken than he already had been after waking up seventy years into the future, everyone he knew and loved dead, thrown into a fight with a space army after only a few weeks.

Steve, who had been sobbing and crying, tears spilling from those perfect, beautiful blue eyes, now filled with sadness and trauma. Steve, who was _begging_ Tony to stay back, not because he was afraid Tony would hurt him, but because he was afraid he would hurt _Tony_. Steve, who was warning him and telling him to leave, before he did something he didn't want to do.

Steve, who then rammed his head against the wall in an attempt to render himself unconscious, so he wouldn't do anything to his friend he didn't want to. Steve, who then let Tony come closer and touch him, to then curl up against him, stifled sobs still on his lips and a tremble to his frame. Steve, who then trusted Tony enough to fall asleep against him, while Tony quietly shushed him and told him it was alright.

That's when his rage broke free, unleashed without thought of consequence.

His footsteps were loud against the silent hallways, loud and angry, more force to each footfall than was necessary. He was on his way down to the cells, ignoring JARVIS completely. His loyal AI was trying to calm him, to talk some sense into him, to stop him from doing something he would most likely regret later. But Tony didn't listen, the fury was clouding his mind and making him deaf for all he did not want to hear.

He was getting justice for what had been done to Steve, and well, if it didn't fit in the category 'justice', he was perfectly content with slamming the label 'revenge' on it too.

One way or another, those HYDRA dickheads were going to pay for what they had done to his friend. Either way he was going to make life a living hell for them. He was going to do things to them they would never think he was capable of. He may even have snatched one of the three syringes with the nightmare solution they found in the facility in it with him on his way down.

The AI saw everything, and so he saw this too. JARVIS warned him, told him to put the syringe back right this instant. The normal airy, fancy tone of his AI had turned way more serious, more strict and commanding, a change in tone Tony did not remember programming into him.

JARVIS even went as far as keeping the elevator doors closed when he wanted to enter. The AI had first wanted to 'trap' his boss inside, but he knew that Tony did not do well in closed spaces, especially not if he was already worked up and stressed out. He didn't want to do that to Tony, so instead he just kept the doors closed so Tony couldn't enter in the first place.

Tony didn't like that. "JARVIS, open the doors."

"Sir, may I advise you that going down there in this state of anger is not a good idea?"

"I don't care, they have to pay for what they've done."

"It is established that they will never set foot outside of prison cells, sir. They will never again see the light of day."

"That's not good enough!"

Tony turned away from the elevator, the doors weren't going to open up anyway. His gaze moved around for a moment, then settling on two other doors. The doors leading to the staircase. He walked at those, pulling one of them open with ease and then taking the stairs down. He would have to descend a lot of stairs to get to the level they were holding the prisoners, but he didn't care. His rage was fuel enough.

JARVIS kept talking, kept trying to snap him out of it and stop him from doing something terrible. But Tony was done, he was fed up with this bullshit. If no one was going to do anything about it, he was going to have to do it himself. Step by step he went further down, his feet fast and his mind blurred. He locked JARVIS' voice out, only Steve's pleas and cries on his mind.

The syringe lay cold in his hand, the glass not even warming up by his tight grip. His hand did not turn sweaty, the fluid stayed cold. He lifted it up shortly while he walked, turning it in his hand. The fluid seemed like water, and Tony expected it to flow like water. But instead the clear liquid moved like syrup, like a thick, sticky substance. That was some fucked up stuff in there. It made him even angrier knowing that stuff had been injected into Steve's _body_, making him see all that was bad and terrifying.

When he had arrived on the right floor, he pushed the doors open and wanted to make his way through the hallways, to go to the cells and pay the HYDRA assholes a visit. But before he could even take a few steps out of the staircase his shoulders were gently grabbed by two hands. He was stopped in his tracks, looking up at a larger person standing before him. Blue eyes, dark-blonde hair ruffled up as if he had just rolled out of bed, but Tony knew he was just too lazy to brush it.

"Barton, let go," Tony grumbled, trying to push himself along the archer.

But the other did not budge, muscles in his back and arms strong after years and years of archery and field training. "No, you have to listen to me first."

Tony scoffed, "How did you even get here before me?"

"The air ducts. Plus JARVIS showed me the fastest way."

His jaw set, brown eyes darting up at the ceiling and back at Clint. "Yeah, of course. Betrayed by my AI."

"Not betrayed, he cares about you. I care about you. We all do."

"I know," Tony said, "Believe me, I _know_. I care about you too. I care about Natasha, about Bruce and Thor. And I care about _Steve_. I care _so much_ about him. And I want to help him. What they've done to him is unforgivable. So, I'm getting justice."

He tried to push passed Clint again, eyes darkened. He stayed gentle, because Clint not at all deserved to have a part of Tony's anger dumped over him. Clint had done nothing wrong, Tony knew that, but he still had all that frustration inside of him and he couldn't seem to be able to lose it.

"Tony, listen to me. This isn't justice," Clint said, still holding firmly onto Tony's shoulders, "This is revenge."

"Fine, then we'll call it that. Now let me _through_."

Clint did not budge. He kept his pale blue eyes at Tony's face, and his fingers curled into the fabric of Tony's shirt, tightening their grip slightly. "Tony, look at me. You're not the only one devastated by this, okay? I heard Cap scream too, I saw him cry. It's fucking shit, I know. But this is not the way we deal with this."

A small scoff escaped Tony's lips, and there was a shake of his head. Brown eyes averted his gaze for a moment. Then his hands came up, fingers wrapping around Clint's wrists and pulling them down from his shoulders. Tony wanted to push them away, but Clint turned his hands and grabbed Tony's wrists instead. Brown eyes stared into blue ones again.

"You wanna talk about this now? Fine. You don't know _anything_ about it. You weren't there when he was crying in the infirmary, dead afraid and a few second away from blacking out because he was scared he was going to hurt _me_. He wasn't scared to _get_ hurt, he was scared to hurt someone else. He _begged_ me to stay back."

Something changed in Clint's eyes, he didn't know that. Tony had just gotten out of the room, immediately stomping away without telling anyone anything, so Clint only knew what he had seen before. He knew they had injected Steve with hallucinogens, but he didn't know what Cap had seen in his dreams. What they had made him experience.

"HYDRA was messing with his brain, made him think he killed me, multiple times. You didn't see him when he fled off the bed, pushed himself into a corner. He _slammed_ his fucking _head_ against the wall because he thought it was the only way to keep me safe. He wanted to do it again, because the first time didn't knock him out. You didn't try to calm him down while he was hysterically crying and struggled to breathe. I _did_!"

Tony's chest was rapidly rising and falling, his breath cutting in his throat. He was panting hard, his eyes stinging slightly. "I _did_. He shouldn't be going through something like that. Shouldn't be scared like that. Do you really think those HYDRA assholes should go unpunished after what they did?"

"No…" Clint said, voice showing signs of hesitation. Tony set his claws into that doubt.

"Exactly. You think they can just do that to one of us, to our leader, and all that they get as punishment is seeing the inside of a prison cell? The prison we'll be sending them too, their inhabitants will welcome their long lost HYDRA buddies with open arms, especially after the others heard about what they managed to do to the great Captain America. They will be the heroes who got the mighty Captain to his knees. I'm going to pay them a visit and talk to them, and I'm going to make their lives hell."

Clint was silent for a moment, sucking his bottom lip in to bite down on it for a moment. He averted his eyes, letting them trail down to the floor. Tony knew he was getting low, he knew that what he was doing was basically trying to manipulate Clint. But he didn't care, not at the moment. He needed to get through, to make Clint leave him alone. And this was the only way he knew how.

"Is that not what you did to the guys that shot Lucky's eye out?" That was a low blow, and Tony almost winced at his own words, but he had to get _through_.

Clint looked a bit hurt at first, than his expression twisted into anger. "I killed them all. Those scumbags had been forcing people out of their homes to live on the street, killed people who tried to resist and they shot Lucky. They tried to kill me! They were monsters, and they didn't deserve-"

He fell into silence, staring at Tony and his look changed again. From anger to something softer, yet still slightly doubting. Tony knew he had to give one last push before he could walk through to the cells unbothered.

"Clint, just go back to the penthouse. Go give that dog a hug from me, give him some treats. Be happy you saved and revenged him. You took dangerous criminals off the street and made them an example. Let me do the same for Steve, please."

There was a moment of silence, before Clint pressed his lips to a thin line, let go of Tony's wrists, and stepped aside, to let Tony through. Tony gave his shoulder a soft squeeze, and a smile to match. Clint let out a soft sigh, then jerked his head towards the rest of the hallway, as if to tell Tony to 'just go'. And Tony did.

He almost ran through, happy he had get passed that. Clint meant well, he knew that, but right now he just needed to do this. He needed to make the assholes pay for what they did. They were disgusting psychopaths, thinking what they did was right and that they could get away with everything. Well, Tony was going to show them that they couldn't.

A few steps later, Tony almost wanted to roll his eyes when he saw Bruce leaning against the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of his large, purple hoodie. Tony tried just walking passed, acting like he hadn't seen Bruce there, like he was too deep in thought. But the man came up from the wall and walked straight at them.

"Bruce, whatever you're gonna say, I'm not interested."

Bruce blocked his way, making himself broad and Tony felt absolutely no urge to try and push himself along that. He didn't want to trigger the Other Guy by accident. Or to be rude to Bruce in general. Like Clint, Bruce didn't deserve that either. Bruce was really nice, he was always so sweet to everyone. Dammit, they were using his friends against him.

"Tony, listen, Steve is stable. He's healing. He's alright. You don't have to do this," Bruce said.

He made an attempt to lay his hands on Tony's shoulders, but the mechanic stepped back, shaking his head. Apparently JARVIS had managed to get another Avenger to come and stop Tony from what he was going to do too. He knew he should have muted that AI, but he didn't want to aim his anger at his friends, never. That was something his dad used to do. Work did not go well, and so Tony and his mom had to pay for it. Knowing just how much that sucked, Tony tried to stay gentle as he answered.

"Yeah, but _you_ told me there was severe damage to the tissue on his arms and legs. He had a heavy concussion, you said. Malnutrition, dehydration, sleep deprivation. The only reason he's alive and still sane is because he has enhanced healing, but even that wouldn't have been able to help him did we get there a few minutes later. What if we hadn't arrived there in time? What if they had already deep fried his brain with that fucking machine they put on him?"

"But they didn't," Bruce said calmly, "You came there in time, you saved him. And now you need to be _there_ for him. I saw what you did in there, he trusts you. I'm afraid I can't calm him down half as well as you can."

"Hm-mm, I will. _After_ I go talk to the professional assholes I will stay with him until he feels well enough to get out of bed. I will calm him whenever he feels stressed and I will make sure he doesn't feel the need to smash his head against the wall again. But _first_…"

There was a short moment of confusion, Bruce's lips formed the word 'smash' while his eyebrows knitted together. But he broke through the confusion and stopped Tony once more when he tried to slip past. Tony's anger began being fueled with annoyance by all his friends who tried to stop him instead of support him. He really had to get passed Bruce.

The longer he was being held up, the more chance there was Steve was going to wake up before he was back from handing out revenge to HYDRA like it was candy and he was Santa Claus. He didn't want Steve freaking out because he wasn't there to calm him, to tell him it was alright. He had to make an excuse, or just plain walk through. The excuse came first.

"Ok," Tony said, taking a deep breath, "Fine, I won't. I won't do to them what they did to Steve. But I do want to talk to them, okay? I want to look them in the eyes and tell them what I think of them. You gotta let me have that. Come on, Bruce, please."

The doctor seemed to hesitate a moment more, Tony once again set his claws in that doubt. "I'm going there, and I'm going to give them a piece of my mind, okay? Just curse and scream at them until my frustration is gone, I need that. C'mon man."

Bruce stepped to the side slightly, and Tony immediately went passed him.

No time to lose. He had to get to the cells, fuck them up good then get back in time to sit beside Steve as he woke up. Again, he didn't want the Captain panic because Tony suddenly wasn't there anymore. He was almost there. At the end of this hallway there was another door, and behind that door were the cells.

The two HYDRA scumbags were locked in two different cells, next to each other. They weren't able to communicate in any way, and if they tried to JARVIS would know about it immediately, and alarm the guards and the Avengers.

A shape blocked the doorway he wanted to go through, back against one side, and feet at the bottom of the other. An object reflected the light from the lamps around the hallway. A knife. A soft, scraping sound came from the knife. _You have got to be kidding me_.

Tony stopped a few inches before the redhead, unimpressed by the knife sharpening before him. "Either let me through or help me, I'm not going to listen to a goodie-two-shoes justice speech again," Tony snapped, entirely fed up by the obstructions.

Natasha looked up from her knife, pointing her emerald green eyes on the guy before her, equally unimpressed. "I'm not here to give you a speech, Stark, I'm here to tell you to calm down and give me the syringe."

She held her free hand out, eyes telling him to give the syringe. Tony's hand slid into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the glass. His grip tightened. He had just escaped Clint, got past Bruce with some dumb excuse, and now she was here. What was this? Like game levels? He got past level one, level two, and now level ten was waiting for him? What came after? Or was this the endgame?

"Give me the syringe…" Natasha said, "And I'll let you through."

That made Tony look up in surprise. "You're not going to stop me?"

"We can't inject them with those drugs because in some way we could be facing charges. I'm not making this up, if we inject them with that they could be suing us, which we don't want. Plus, we don't want pointless, revenge torture stain our reputation as perfect life-savers."

Tony set his jaw, eyed ready to roll, but he stopped himself from doing that when Natasha added something else, "But if HYDRA shows up to court with a few black eyes, split lips or broken noses no one will bat an eye. Just saying." She held her hand out, raising her eyebrows slightly in a suggestive manner.

The syringe felt cold still in his hand, even in the pocket in his jacket. He bit his lip, thought for a moment, then lay it in her hand. Her fingers curled around the glass and she came up from against the door frame, walking towards the elevators. "If they happen to attack you I would be more than happy to come help 'contain' them."

A smile worked over Tony's face, "Will do."

He went through the doorway, speeding through the hallway, looking for the right door. There were many reinforced, iron doors with cells behind. Most of them were empty, but Tony knew that behind two of them were the HYDRA scumbags he was after. He didn't exactly know which one, but he thought it was number 45 and 46, but he could be wrong.

He peeked through the small windows with iron bars before them, but didn't see anything inside either of the rooms. There weren't any guards present in the hallway either. Tony took a few more steps, looking through window after window. No one. Nothing. When he had looked through about half of the cells he was stopped by a fourth voice.

"Stark."

Level hundred end-boss arrived. Tony kept his eyes straight on the space before him, feet continuing without a hesitation. "Fuck _off_, Fury," he snapped.

"Stark, hold up."

Gritting his teeth in anger, Tony whirled around. "What?!" He was practically screaming out of frustration now, "What do you _want_? You want to stop me? Well tough luck, buddy, you and your righteous speech can _fuck_ right _off_! Leave me the fuck alone! I'm doing this, and I'm not letting anyone stop me from making those fucking assholes pay for what they have done!"

Fury raised an eyebrow, looking at Tony in silence until the latter had taken a few deep breaths and calmed down. The director was standing there in his black trench coat, black eyepatch, black shoes. He was wearing black all over, and Tony never knew it annoyed him as much as it did now. Perhaps it had never annoyed him before and he just needed something to be angry at right now. And Fury was the perfect target for that.

Fury then told him, "I'm only here to tell you the prisoners have been transferred to a highly secure prison, completely isolated from the other prisoners. They're not here anymore."

Hearing that, Tony was two seconds away from exploding. But before he could swear and curse at Fury for only giving him this information now, or moving the prisoners without letting him know first, Fury held up his hand to silence him.

"They are known fuckers, have gotten their hands on many SHIELD agents before they got to Rogers. They have made themselves everything but popular with their human-tested experiments. In that prison work a few guards who have lost friends because of them. Their experiments have cost many lives, and they're still pissed about it. Believe me, they will get what they deserve."

The words were hard to take in, there was a sliver of confusion and maybe Tony just didn't want to believe it. But here they were. Tony was silent for a moment. Just silent. No anger silence, no annoyance silent, and he wasn't silent because he was ignoring Fury. He was everything but ignoring Fury, he was thinking carefully about the director's words.

They were isolated, and left with very angry SHIELD agents who had strong revenge feelings because of friends lost to experimenting and fried brains. That was a lot to take in right now. So, Tony was silent. Thinking about that carefully. He wanted to revenge Steve, to hurt those assholes, and that would surely come. He should feel better now, right?

Not really. He had wanted it to be _him_ who did the hurting, not some random agents he didn't even know. Or not be there to watch it happen. But on the other hand, they had actually _lost_ people to these experiments. Those friends of theirs had suffered gruesomely until they eventually succumbed to it. Until their bodies couldn't anymore and gave out. Those people were dead, Steve wasn't.

That helped a little bit, but Tony was still angry. He still wanted to do something for Steve, something to revenge him. Though Steve had never been much of a revenge guy, so it could be that when Steve woke up and he found out Tony had gone down there, to beat up those guys, he could feel disappointed, and not proud. Steve was never proud of unnecessary violence. And Tony shouldn't be either.

So, he guessed Fury was right, he was always right. Tony hated it.

"You're understandably angry at them for hurting your friend, so I'm letting it slide," Fury said then, "No one's gonna hurt one of mine like that and get away with it. But dare to scream at me like that again and I will kick yo' ass, understood?"

Tony nodded a few times, "Yes, sir."

"Now get your ass back over at Rogers. You need to be there right now, not here."

"Yes, sir."

Tony turned around, cheeks coloring slightly red because he didn't like having to address someone with 'sir', or have someone calling him out like that. But he on his turn understood too. He was still angry as fuck, and wanted to beat HYDRA up, but he also understood why it was better he didn't. Well, they weren't here anyway.

But at the last moment he looked over his shoulder a last time. "One of mine?"

Fury's face left no room for emotions, but Tony grinned back at it nonetheless.


End file.
